


The Sphere

by Waking_Dreamland



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Sequel to Staff of the Heirophant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2020-07-08 16:11:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19872400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waking_Dreamland/pseuds/Waking_Dreamland
Summary: In which the Guardians, who are pursuing a gigantic weaponized Dyson sphere they managed to lose, also lose Lylla and must go to her rescue. Peter's jealousy over Rocket and Gamora starts to escalate.





	1. Issue 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to Staff of the Heirophant, my first fic. It is recommended that it be read first.

The Sphere

"Where's Lylla?"

Peter looked up from the comic book he'd been reading while sitting in the captain's chair. "Surprise, surprise, you can't find that invisa-ship of hers." That wasn't sarcasm; Lylla's black tear-drop shaped ship was equipped with everything needed for a very stealthy vessel.

"No, that's the thing," grumbled Rocket. " _I_ can! And it's not out there." Worry strained faintly in the Raccoon's voice, enough that Gamora got up and walked over, putting a hand on his shoulder and peering at the console.

"Could she be so close to us that our sensors are glitching?" Gamora hoped that was the case; if she'd just left without saying goodbye, Rocket would be justifiably upset. The green-skinned woman did not want to deal with an upset Rocket; he tended to get bullheaded and angry about such things.

"We have to go look for her!" Rocket's tone was bullheaded and angry, and Gamora sighed.

"Easy, Rocket," said Peter in a consoling voice. "We're not in a rush; we can take a couple of hours to look for her. But she might have just left, y'know."

Exactly the thought that Gamora _didn't_ want crossing Rocket's mind. It was working up to be a day for sighing. She gracefully moved back to her chair and looked down at the console, also not seeing any blips that indicated she was nearby. "Alright. Let us retrace our route and see if we simply lost her along the way."

Peter, known as 'Starlord' by some --mostly himself-- nodded agreement to this proposal, even though neither Rocket nor Gamora were facing him to see the assenting gesture. Besides, they'd probably do it with or without his approval anyway.

* * *

Hours of backtracking turned into just over a day before someone finally said it.

"I am Groot," the little potted plantling said with a rustle of branches for emphasis. 

Peter, Gamora, and Drax all looked toward Rocket to get an idea of what was said, but as it turned out they really didn't need a translation. Rocket's muzzle was crinkled, his whiskers back and his ears almost flat against his skull. Upset stubbornness.

"Why the hell would she not wanna be found?!" In a voice mixed with fear and indignation, Rocket gave the gist of the translation to the crew anyway. Groot had no answer for that, aside from the little seed of a thought that she might have left since Rocket was no longer interested. And saying that would go… poorly.

Fortunately, others spoke up before Groot could be so brutally honest. Unfortunately, it was Drax who spoke up. "The small furry one might want to be alone to cope with her misfortune. It must be so humiliating to profess one's love and have that gift turned away."

Gamora lowered her face into her waiting palm while Peter winced and Groot nodded. Rocket sputtered and bared sharp teeth at Drax, obviously considering launching himself at the massive man, but worry overtook anger. "What if she's in danger?"

Gamora sighed and reached over to pet Rocket between his ears. "She's a very capable woman, Rocket; I'm sure she's alright. Maybe she simply had other things that needed doing, or she just was bad at saying goodbye."

The Raccoon shook off the petting with a grumble that meant he wasn't done worrying, but might be finished worrying aloud. "Just one more day?" He turned a pleading expression on Starlord, who couldn't quite resist. 

"Fine. One more day. And after that, we go to Nova Corp and explain what happened with the stupid Dyson sphere. And the Herbivores," he added in an irate mutter; that betrayal had been utterly unexpected.

Rocket bobbed his head in a quick nod and settled himself into the pilot's chair, watching information from scans scroll across the console screen. Over time, slowly but surely, his ears and whiskers began to droop as it became more and more clear that they weren't likely to find the little Otter or her nearly invisible ship. It made a hollow place in the pit of Rocket's stomach, one that felt like it was filling with ice. Something was wrong; he knew it. But it wasn't something he could put into words. Perhaps, with luck, she'd communicate with them eventually and his dread could go away.

Hours went by in a sort of trepidation-laced quiet; even Groot was silent. And as the hours turned into that 'one more day', there was still no sign of Lylla. Oh, they found a couple areas with lingering residue that indicated a gate opening, but nothing that pointed to Lylla specifically. After so much wasted time, even Rocket had to give up.

The Raccoon slid out of the pilot's chair and trudged behind the crew's seating on the bridge, heading disconsolately down the ladder. Perhaps curling into a ball on the bed for an hour or so would help him move past this and let him prepare for the next task that the Guardians claimed.

* * *

"Give him some time," Gamora said quietly into the silence that held the bridge. "He probably feels like this is his fault, or his responsibility. I'll go talk to him in a little while, once he's had some time to deal with this himself."

Peter nodded, then let his head loll back as he stared at the ceiling as though it might have some wisdom to impart to him. "So. Nova Corp. We're going to be showing up sphereless. Anyone have any thoughts as to how we should go about this?"

"We simply inform them that we were unsuccessful," said Drax as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Perhaps once we have updated them, they'll dispatch us to recover the sphere from the Herbivores! It will be a grand battle."

"Rewind that a bit and you've got me. We'll just update them and let them deal with it," said Starlord. "They're not going to want to send us to retrieve it after we're the ones who lost it in the first place." He heaved a sigh, muttering under his breath, "Who the hell loses something the size of a small moon…."

"Peter, we may wish to consider that Nova Corp will send us out looking for it _because_ we're the ones who lost it," Gamora pointed out, a little frown playing across dark green lips. Her comment made Peter sigh, but she continued on as though she'd heard nothing. "We should be planning for that eventuality, and figuring out just how we're going to recover a weapons platform the size of a small moon with just.. well, us."

Drax stiffened as he turned from the window he had been staring out of, indignant. "Do you believe that we are not competent to face this challenge? Our strength together can outmatch theirs!" He dropped his voice, talking more to himself than anyone else, muttering, "They don't even eat meat; how strong can they be?"

"I am Groot." If a face-palm had a vocal equivalent, that statement would be it. Eventually this would evolve into a full-blown argument, as sure as leaves fall. It would be much louder than a falling leaf, unfortunately. The plant wondered if he could arrange to be elsewhere for that.

"We have _some_ guns," Peter said slowly, as if addressing a youth, eyeing Drax. "They have _many_ guns. Big guns."

"And they outnumber us," added Gamora, frown deepening a little as she considered the prospect of battle with the Herbivores. "It might be best to suggest to Nova Corp that we have plenty of reinforcements; one ship probably won't cut it. We need help."

* * *

"We need help."

Lylla's voice in the dark, soft as it was, still alarmed some of the animal-citizens of Halfworld when she spoke, causing soft whines and chitters of anxiety to echo in the lightless room.

Everything had been fine. Well, not fine; losing Rocket that way still stung and left her hurting, but in reality, he hadn't really been hers to begin with. She would have gotten over the sense of loss eventually as she traveled with the endlessly fascinating Guardians, perhaps with adventures along the way to speed up emotional recovery.

Fine, until someone hijacked the coordinates of one of the jump points she was following the Milano through. When the vessel finished the jump, she was promptly surrounded by robot-run ships. Those robots offered no explanations when they cuffed her and dragged her kicking and screeching onto one of their ships, and now she languished in the dark with only the gear she had on her person and the cuffs at her wrists. No idea where she was, aside from in a cell in a building on a planet.

With about a dozen other Otters.

While it was indeed dark, Lylla's sense of smell told her that these other people were like her, not just animal-kin of Halfworld, but Otters specifically. Someone was rounding up Otter-folk, and she had no idea what for. Nothing good, obviously.

"There is no help." Judging by the smooth resignation of the voice, the Otter that whispered had given up and settled in to await her fate. "There aren't even people. Just robots that come with food and water who hose down the cell --"

"With us in it!" An indignant mutter interrupted briefly.

"--and go off wherever they came from with out saying a thing!"

"Wait…" Lylla frowned, squinting in the darkness to make out faint shadows and signs of movement among her fellow Otters, barely able to see anything without light. "Were we rounded up by Toy-Makers?"

There was some muttering among the other Otters before the first one that spoke answered her. "Yes. Just like on Halfworld. That's where we think we are." Some murmurs of agreement followed her words and Lylla shook her head, baffled.

"But why? That makes no sense; which family would want to round up Otters?" There had always been a certain amount of competition between families on Halfworld, at least with those who owned toy factories on City-Side, but rarely had anyone resorted to kidnapping, and gathering a bunch of the same animal-kin didn't even make sense in that scenario. As far as Lylla knew, there was no reason to round up Otter folk. "…it's the robots…"

Now that made a little more sense. For whatever reason, the robotic population of City-Side was collecting Otters… and maybe more. "Has anyone seen any of us that aren't Otters?"

Brief murmurs followed. "No. Nobody but Otters has been brought in here; you're the most recent by several days."

"How long have you been in here?" Lylla's voice was full of sympathy as she looked in the direction of the Otter that had first spoken, thus apparently making herself spokes-Otter. 

"We think less than a week," she responded. "I'm May. Who are you?"

Lylla almost gave her name before changing her mind without really knowing why. "Lilly." A round of introductions followed as the other Otters identified themselves.

"Has anybody tried to escape yet?" While not quite as tech-savvy as Rocket, Lylla had a good chance of cobbling something together to help them get out. Moving carefully to the faint rectangular outline of light that suggested a door, she started feeling up along the surface until she reached the knob, then began fiddling with it.

"No. Door has a good lock on it. Careful! We don't know if there are guards supervising."

Lylla shook her head. "I don't hear anything. Those robots always whir or beep or hum or something…. if there's one out there, it's on standby."

"How do you know so much about the robots," May asked with suspicion clear in her voice.

"My family used to own a Toy Factory, a small one," Lylla lied. The factory her family owned had been one of the largest on the planet, and cause for all sorts of trouble when a certain Reptile had wanted the factory --and the wealth-- for himself. That mess had started a war.

To May, that seemed a reasonable answer; the old Otter knew that plenty of animal-kin had maintained business ties to factories City-Side to make their fortunes large and small. "If you're sure… but I don't know what good you expect to do."

Lylla frowned as she discovered that May had been right; the lock was good. Not electronic, which was a bit of a surprise; they must be in one of the old buildings toward City-Center, but still good. "…anybody have a pin, or a piece of stiff wire, or something like that?"

There was some muttering as the Otters searched themselves, and then something was pressed into Lylla's hand. A bobby pin. Lylla blinked at it (though in the dark she couldn't really see it) in confusion. A soft whisper answered her unspoken question. "I wear a wig," said a youthful --and somewhat embarrassed-- voice very quietly.

"Thank you," Lylla whispered back. "This is just about perfect." She twisted the pin until it was one length instead of being folded over, then started probing the lock with it. Now that she had a tool, it was only a matter of time before that door would open.

* * *

"We may as well start figuring out how to get the Sphere back now, before we go report to Nova Corp," said Gamora from her spot at the pilot's console. She was sitting sideways, one elbow on the console with cheek in hand, red-tipped brown hair falling to the side. "They've been good to us, and besides, it'll probably soften the blow of losing the Sphere if we go report and already have plans to get it back. We'll need their help."

"Why should we go to them for help?" Drax scowled, brawny arms folded over his bared chest. "Surely we can handle a task like this on our own! We are a canny and unscrupulous lot; we must be able to figure out what weaknesses these Herbivores have, and the Sphere as well. We can take it back without the police helping!"

Peter sat in his captain's chair, looking back and forth between the two much the way one would observe a tennis match as what started out as a discussion escalated into an argument. Even Groot chimed in now and then, though without Rocket his words were nothing more than declarations of his name. 

When Gamora started to bare her teeth and Drax began to crack his knuckles with how hard his fists were clenched, Peter shouted "Enough! You're both pretty!"

The absurdness of the statement made both sides of the argument fall silent and stare at him, which was what Peter wanted. "We need to get back in touch with the Jeleyahns. It's their Sphere; they probably know a good way to track it; if anybody would know how to help, it's them. I doubt Groth and Vix have gone far, since they wanted to visit Xandar too."

Drax glowered and scoffed. "Now you want to get the Nova soldiers and the Saurians? We don't need them. It is overkill."

"No such thing as overkill," came Rocket's voice from the hatch as he stepped up and made his way onto the bridge. "Overkill is just the right amount of kill. What's going on?" He strolled over to Gamora and ran little clawed fingers through her hair, drawing a smile from the green-skinned woman.

Peter's eyes narrowed as he watched this, jawline stiffened due to clenched teeth. But he forced himself to relax; things were bad enough without letting jealousy get in the way. Even if Rocket didn't deserve someone like Gamora. "We're deciding on our course of action." When Drax and Gamora both opened their mouths, he raised a hand and spoke in a firmer tone, "Which is: We contact the Jeleyahns and see if they know a way to track that Sphere, or any weaknesses we can exploit in order to get it back. We go to Nova Corp with that information and ask them to help us take the Sphere back once we've found it, because we're one relatively small ship against one relatively small heavily-armed moon."

Rocket hopped up into his chair at the vacant console and checked over the readouts, hoping that somehow Lylla's little ship had registered while he'd been gone, but there was nothing. With a sigh, he nodded and looked toward Peter, frowning a little at the dirty look he swore was directed at him before it vanished. "Sounds like a good plan." He blinked and peered toward the glowering Drax. "Is everybody just in a really bad mood?"

"I am Groot," declared Groot, who apparently wished to branch out into the discussion.

Rocket turned his attention to Groot, fuzzy eyebrows raised. "That's what the shouting was about? Well then what's Peter's problem?" Groot raised his small shoulders in a shrug, having not the tiniest clue. "Hmph," said Rocket, side-eying Peter, who looked away with a sigh.

Unfazed, or perhaps just dealing with a lot on his mind, Rocket didn't press the issue. Instead, he turned to settle himself properly in front of his console. "No need to wait around then. Gamora, send a message to the Jeleyahns? I'll get us started toward Xandar. And I ain't trying to save the planet this time!"

* * *

"Oh.. my god," Peter intoned with a sense of awe --and no little amount of dread-- as he looked out over the debris field, his words unheard among the klaxons announcing imminent impact with what little was left of the Nova Corp fleet.

All around Xandar were scraps of silver and yellow, some chunks of ship large enough to still have the starburst symbol still legible. Bodies floated in space too, dead eyes rimmed with frost, mouths open in last gasps. The whole Xandar system was full of debris, hundreds, maybe thousands of ships utterly decimated. 

On the bridge, aside from the alarms, there was silence. Rocket slowly stood up on his chair while Gamora got out of hers and moved closer to her lover, reaching out to take his hand. Even Drax was quiet in the face of such rampant destruction. Groot sniffled as though on the verge of tears.

"What… what happened," Rocket whispered as though afraid to break the silence.

Gamora shook her head and reluctantly let go of the Raccoon's paw, moving back to her console and checking the various signals coming in. "There are automated distress calls," she announced quietly. "But it doesn't really matter what they say… I know who did this."

Everyone on the bridge turned to look at her expectantly, except for a saddened Groot.

"Thanos. Thanos did this."

Out of all of them, Gamora was the one who would know the work of her own adopted 'father'. "But why?" Peter sounded flabbergasted; sure, Nova Corp could be annoying, and Nova Prime always seemed to have a stick up her ass, but this? This amount of destruction was insane!

From the other console, where he still stood on the chair looking out over the disaster, Rocket choked. "Oh no.. the Stone…"

Gamora nearly jumped out of her skin, horrified at the thought. "The Stone… That's exactly what brought him here, why he did this."

"I…" came a soft whisper that trembled like a leaf in the wind, "…am Groot?"

"No!" Rocket burst out, turning to look at the potted plant. "No, it's not our fault! This is Thanos's fault and nobody else's. We can't blame ourselves…"

"Well… what _can_ we do?" Peter looked around for suggestions.

"We must go down to Xandar," responded Drax in a normal tone of voice, not awestruck by the destruction outside the windows. "We must see if Thanos left any survivors."

Rocket sighed and nodded, turning to drop back down into his chair, and he solemnly piloted their way down through Xandar's atmosphere, directing the Milano toward Nova Corp headquarters.

* * *

What was left of Nova Corp headquarters.

The once tall and proud building of shining windows and graceful lines was little more than rubble. Only two floors remained intact, and those barely. Debris was scattered all over the plaza… as were bodies. Thanos's troops had not hesitated to gun down anyone who just happened to be crossing the street at the time of the assault, from soldiers to children.

Slowly, the Guardians walked down the ramp into the quiet. Unsurprisingly, the entire plaza was deserted aside from the dead, though an occasional glimpse of movement amid the still-standing buildings showed that not all on Xandar was lost.

"What do we do now?" Gamora winced as she was forced to walk around the body of a young girl, her eyes forever closed by Thanos's men. "We have no reinforcements…"

Rocket stared with wide eyes, looking around at the devastation that had been wrought on Xandar. At least it seemed confined to the area around Nova headquarters, though that was hardly any comfort; the Guardians knew people there. Good people. Now gone. "I dunno. Maybe the Jeleyahns can hel-"

"Help us," came a voice off to the side. The group turned, on edge, a weapon in the hand of each Guardian (except for Groot, whose pot was being carried one-handed by Drax.) What was coming toward them was hardly weapon-worthy, though; a tall and pretty woman with magenta skin and a tattered, smoke-stained dress was limping toward them, with a young girl clutching her hand tightly.

Peter glanced between the other Guardians before stepping forward, his voice a little roughened by the shock of finding things as they were. "They're gone," he said in an attempt to relieve fear, "There was no one else in your system as we came through."

She came closer as Peter spoke, eyes shiny with unshed tears. "No," she whispered hoarsely. "We can't defend ourselves… they killed all of Nova Corp." The little girl choked on a sob and turned to bury her face in her mother's side. "We have no police, no army… they're all gone…"

"Then it is good that we are retrieving a heavily-armed Dyson sphere," Drax announced as Peter pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger as though staving off a headache. "It will be able to defend Xandar, defend the whole system!"

And now the Guardians were committed to finding the Sphere no matter what, because none of them had the heart to extinguish the hope that had appeared in the woman's eyes.

"Jeleyahns it is," murmured Gamora to Rocket, reaching down to place her hand comfortingly between his triangular ears.

After offering what sympathy and platitudes they could to the woman and her softly crying daughter, the Guardians returned to the Milano and the Second Chance to park themselves in orbit around Xandar, solemn, and contact the Jeleyahns.

* * *

While Peter contacted the Saurians, Gamora and Rocket went to their shared room on the Milano, Rocket plopping down on the bed with a sigh. Forlorn, his ears drooped to the side a little as he wondered whether or not he told Groot the truth. Was this their fault? The loss of life for Nova Corp alone was in the hundred thousands, and that was just to get the Infinity Stone. Now that Thanos had it, how many more lives would be gone?

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his furry face because Gamora frowned just a bit and walked over, looking down at him. "Credit for your thoughts?"

"They ain't worth that much," grumbled the Raccoon. Then he sighed and spoke in a less gruff tone. "I just wondered… what might have happened if we'd kept the Stone instead. Nova Corp might still be around…"

Gamora shook her head and sat down on the bunk beside him. "Do not think like that. If we'd kept it, it would have been us that got destroyed; Thanos wouldn't have hesitated. We cannot be very good Guardians if we're dead."

"We have to stop him…"

"I know. And we will. We just have to find a way, find the right time. Maybe find some allies."

"Who else is gonna be stupid enough to stand up to Thanos?!" Rocket gave her an incredulous stare.

"I do not know, but surely some will be. …Willing, not stupid. I hope."

Rocket snorted, then sighed again, feeling a little overwhelmed by it all. "I hope we can deliver on what Drax said. All kinda relies on the Jeleyahns unless we wanna try an assault with just us."

Gamora shook her head vigorously enough that red and brown spiral curls swayed over her shoulders. "We are absolutely not trying to get that Sphere back by ourselves. We just have to hope the Saurians know how we can go about finding it. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll know a way to disable it."

Harrumphing at the thought, Rocket shrugged. "Fine. Group assault. But I still say we could probably find a way to sabotage the thing ourselves."

With another shake of her head, Gamora chuckled and reached over to pet between her lover's ears. "I think you just want to sabotage things for the fun of it."

Rocket leaned into the petting, letting his eyes half-close. "Yeah… so?"

Again, that soft chuckle that the Raccoon so enjoyed hearing comes from Gamora, and she curled her fingers to scritch through the soft fur between his ears. If he was a cat, he would purr; he might just purr anyway, relishing the attention.

Gamora watched him with a small smile playing across her lips. Rocket looked tired; he hadn't slept much during the search for Lylla and the lack was taking a toll now. "You should get some rest," she murmured, letting her hand slide down the back of his head. "Come on. Out of the jumpsuit and into the bed."

"You're just trying to get me naked," Rocket retorted with a smirk, looking up at her. He needed things to be a little playful to counteract how serious and grim things had been, and Gamora seemed to recognize that.

"Well, maybe a little," she replied with a low chuckle, willing to go along with this. More than willing; she needed something other than disaster to focus on, herself. Seeing what her adoptive father had done was unnerving enough, and now she also had to worry about what he would do with the Power Stone.

Gamora watched as Rocket stood and started divesting himself of weapons ranging from simple knives to what may or may not have been a bomb, which received a suspicious look from the woman. Finally he got to his actual jumpsuit and a sympathetic smile briefly curved her lips as she saw the hardware on his back. Something they had in common; both had been altered well away from what they had originally been. She reached out to trace her fingertips lightly around the geometric black shapes the hardware took the form of and was rewarded with a shiver; the skin was quite sensitive.

Rocket looked back in time to catch that sympathetic look; while he would have snapped at most people for the very suggestion that they might be pitying him, Gamora was an exception. She understood. "Am I the only one getting undressed?" he asked with a smirk.

"Oh, I suppose not." Gamora stood and removed the belt that held her own weaponry, a collection that paled in comparison to Rocket's, setting it carefully on the floor before starting to unzip the snug black bodysuit she wore. In the process, she toed her boots off, kicking them carelessly to the side. "But we can't linger too long; Peter will be expecting us on the bridge in the not-too-distant future."

Rocket rolled dark eyes heavenward and shook his head; Peter could be awfully demanding at times. And the Raccoon had noticed that the "Starlord" often had need of one or both of them when things were getting intimate; it had happened too often to be a coincidence. Jealousy didn't suit the human very well, and it certainly didn't suit Rocket, how grouchy Peter had been since he and Gamora got together.

Rocket's irritation vanished like fog in the morning when he allowed himself to be distracted by Gamora. Her grace made even the simplest of movements look seductive, and he watched as she unzipped her bodysuit, revealing a widening triangle of green skin all the way down past her navel. The inner swells of her breasts were exposed almost to the point of showing nipple, and the Raccoon felt himself becoming swiftly aroused just from the unintentional show his lover was putting on. "Anybody ever tell you you're a tease?"

"Plenty," Gamora answered with a little smirk. "I must admit that teasing you is fun. Gets you all worked up."

"And you want me worked up? That's promising. Not intending to take naps, hm?"

Gamora snickered and shook her head. "You don't look tired to me," she said while her dark gaze dropped lower, drawing his attention to the growing bulge still within the softly furred sheath low on his belly.

He had been tired, but that was long gone now. "You're not naked yet. That's a problem."

She laughed softly and started shrugging out of the bodysuit, tugging her arms out of the snug sleeves and peeling the slightly glossy black fabric down to expose her torso fully. Growing impatient, Rocket stepped in and hooked his paws into the rumple of cloth at her hips and started pulling downward to take the bodysuit the rest of the way off, to Gamora's amusement. "Not very patient, are you?"

"For this? With you? No such thing as patience." His answer made a flush of pleasure darken Gamora's cheeks and she looked down at him with a small, fond smile. She watched as he tugged the bodysuit down to just above her knees, then frowned a little in confusion when he stopped. With the fabric wrapping around her lower legs, she couldn't move very well… and perhaps that was Rocket's intention.

As soon as his tugging revealed that tempting tuft of dark hair that seemed like a triangular arrow pointing down at her nethers, arousal got the better of him and the head of his cock poked out from the sheath, the shaft growing thicker and longer as he became more turned on. With her fully exposed, but not able to take the steps back to the bed, he put his paws on her hips and stepped in close enough to slowly lick along her slit, drawing a shaky breath from her.

He didn't have to lean down very far for the access he needed; an advantage to being so much shorter, he supposed. Rocket took a deep breath, inhaling the spicy scent of her and shivering with anticipation. Her scent, her taste, everything about her was intoxicating and within moments his cock was at full length and starting to get that pleasant small ache in his groin.

Lifting his head, he started to gently nibble with sharp teeth down from her navel to that thatch of pubic hair, making his lover shiver with the same anticipation that made him twitch his tail. He ducked his head to make the space needed for him to continue nibbling, this time along her labia, biting down gently on the soft flesh just enough to leave marks for him to lick after. He savored every shiver his actions caused, curling his fingers to let his claws dig into her hips slightly, knowing that Gamora enjoyed a little pain with her pleasure.

Being unable to move well added something to the experience for Gamora. It was strangely arousing, and she found herself thinking of letting the Raccoon tie her up at some point, maybe to the bed so he would have complete control. Surrendering control was a very new thing to Gamora, and she found it intoxicating, especially when he started to use his teeth and claws. In truth, she could take and enjoy more pain than he was inflicting, but perhaps that could be a discussion for another time. For the moment, she simply reveled in the sensations, one hand moving to the back of Rocket's head to encourage him as her nails scritched lightly through the brown fur.

Eager to please, Rocket nipped a little harder at Gamora's inner thighs, making little indentations in green skin with his teeth, intentionally leaving her most sensitive parts alone for the moment purely to tease her. He could feel the little quivers that would slink through her body with each nibble, every caress of his tongue, and it delighted him to no end. She started to moan, and it was music to his ears, something to crave and revel in. 

Eventually, after enough teasing that Gamora was breathing hard, he slid his paws downward and between her thighs to separate the smooth folds of her labia, exposing the round little button of her clit and the ruffled, so-sensitive skin that led to her entrance. Making a soft rumbling noise that may as well have been a purr, he started to flick his talented tongue over her clit at a rapid pace, making a hard shudder flow through her body and drawing a gasp from her throat.

Gamora tilted her head back, eyes fluttering shut as sensation filled her senses. She wished she had something to hold on to, a way to steady herself as quivers danced down her spine, but all she had was Rocket. For the moment, that was enough; her fingers tightened in the fur along the back of his head, tugging lightly while pushing with her palm, encouraging him to do more subconsciously.

And Rocket responded. As she pushed against the back of his head, he took her clit between his lips and started to suckle on the little nub of tender flesh, continuing to flick his tongue over the surface. Gamora moaned louder, making him shudder with pleasure of his own, the pleasure he took from pleasing her. 

Eventually, once his lover had started to shake, he dipped his head a little lower and sought out those frilly inner labia to lap at, the tip of his tongue barely brushing along her entrance in a very intentional tease. He could taste the spicy-sweet nectar that had built up there, making her slippery for penetration, something he didn't plan to give her. This could be a build-up for later, he figured; once he was done they could go about their day riddled with anticipation of the night to come.

Finally, Gamora's shivers and twitches built up past the point where she could contain them. Thighs quivering, head lolling back, she let out a high pitched moan that shook almost as much as she did. Rocket's efforts were rewarded by a wash of hot liquid along his tongue, fluid which he lapped up very eagerly. His hands went back to her hips as though to help steady her, claws digging in a little to enhance his lover's bliss.

It took several moments for the shuddering to pass, though pleasure lingered in a warm haze for Gamora. She looked down with half-closed eyes that were darkened by arousal, and Rocket smirked up at her, licking her juices from his muzzle. "Okay. You can get dressed now."

Gamora's eyes widened as she stared incredulously down at him. "That's it? What about you?"

"I get my turn tonight," he replied with that insufferable smirk, dark eyes filled with amusement and arousal. "Or maybe we'll both get a turn."

Gamora chuckled low in her throat and shook her head. She started to tug her body suit back up while Rocket put his back on, pausing with it gathered at his waist to collect his belt and his array of weapons while his nimble tail slid through the hole in the back. 

That was when Peter barged in.


	2. Issue #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lylla works on rescuing herself from the clutches of two old enemies, while the Guardians pursue the Sphere that had escaped them the last time they tried for it.

Issue #2

"Guys, the Jeleyahns are-"

"What the fuck, Peter?! Get out!" Rocket snarled, spinning to glare at the unwanted intruder. He quickly zipped his jumpsuit and grabbed his belt full of weaponry, cinching it on with a determination that suggested he might be using one of those weapons in the very near future.

Peter stared wide-eyed at Gamora, who was stripped to the waist, full breasts exposed and dark green nipples still taut from arousal. A flush rose in his cheeks, and even Peter wasn't certain if it was from embarrassment or anger. Probably a bit of both, really.

Calmly, Gamora finished zipping up her snug bodysuit and turned fully to face Peter, expression dangerously bland, voice soft and even. "Are you going to leave, or just keep staring at me?" Only the narrowing of her eyes indicated that she was just as angry as Rocket. Gamora just had a different way of expressing it.

"Jeez, take a picture, why dontcha?" Rocket's fur along the back of his neck was standing up stiffly while his poofy tail lashed back and forth; triangular ears and whiskers were both slanted back in anger. "Stop staring and start getting out!" He drew a laser pistol from one holster, checking it to make sure of the setting and charge, side-eyeing Peter while he considered shooting the human. It wouldn't kill him. Probably.

"Hey! It's my ship, people! Besides, how was I supposed to know you were… whatever you were!" Peter sputtered, flustered and seethingly jealous; he knew Rocket and Gamora were together but for some reason he hadn't really thought much of them having sex. He hadn't really figured it was anatomically likely, given the differences in species. "The Jeleyahns are here and the two of you should be up with them, not canoodling down here!"

Rocket calmly aimed the laser pistol and said in a conversational tone, "You're still here."

Gamora finally decided to intercede, stepping forward and gently putting a hand over Rocket's gun-paw, pushing so he'd lower the weapon. "Peter was just leaving." She turned her stare, still narrow-eyed and irate, to Starlord. "Weren't you?" It was more statement than question.

"Fine," Peter spat, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. He turned, stalking out the hatch, fuming with envy and unrequited lust.

Rocket didn't put his gun away until the hatch had finished slamming shut behind the pissed-off human, then turned to look up at Gamora. "See, this? This is a problem." He plunked himself down on the metal floor to start tugging his boots on.

Gamora sighed and nodded her agreement, dragging her fingers through her hair to give it some semblance of order. "I don't know what to do about it though. Maybe he just needs more time to move on emotionally."

Snorting, Rocket got back up and stamped his feet a little to get them comfortably settled in his rocket-boots. "Guy's got the emotional maturity of a grape; it's gonna be a while," he grumbled, still testy about being barged in on. But Gamora wasn't… "Hey, why aren't you furious?"

"I was for a moment. But there's no point in staying angry; it wouldn't have resolved anything or made him leave any faster." She smirked down at her lover. "Of course, I didn't think of aiming a weapon at him. Maybe you need to be a little more calm too."

Rocket snorted his disagreement. "Shall we go meet our saurian friends?"

Gamora dipped her head in a nod and walked with quiet grace to the hatch that had been so rudely opened minutes ago. "Let us hope they have a solution to our Sphere problem."

* * *

When they arrived on the bridge, Groot was looking anywhere but at the couple of people there, while Drax was staring squinty-eyed at Peter, who was still a little red in the face and looked …tense. 

Groth and Vix were looking at him oddly too, until Rocket and Gamora entered, giving them something else to look at. Vix gave Rocket a gape-jawed, carnivorous grin, while Groth smiled at Gamora, speaking, "Good to see you two again."

"Likewise," said Gamora. "I could wish it under different circumstances, though."

"Yes, the Sphere. I understand you'll be seeking help in reacquiring it. Why not go to this Nova Corp like you planned?"

Gamora winced a little while Rocket looked down. Peter, on the other hand, just gestured to the debris field. "This _is_ Nova Corp." His bluntness was startling, compared to the somber reactions of the rest of the crew, and Groth's eyes widened as she stared, dismayed, out at the remnants of the Xandarian military.

"What happened?" Vix was stoic and to the point, though his pupils were dilated with something like agitation. "The destruction is incredible."

"Never mind that," said Peter, words clipped. It made both saurians turn odd looks toward him, but he seemed not to notice. "We need better information on the Sphere; there's got to be a way to track it. And we'll need your people to help us get it back!"

Vix and Groth looked at each other before answering, and Vix's voice held a soft growl; he was not a fan of Peter's tone even though it wasn't directed at him. "'Our people' are mostly civilians. It's possible that I can round up the more militant of us, but I am not sure what those numbers are."

Groth nodded her agreement. "There is a way to track the Sphere; it leaves a trail of waste gasses after consuming a nebula that we should be able to follow. In theory."

Peter frowned, not liking theories, but it was probably their best course of action. "Fine. Let's see if we can get to that, before it gets too far away."

"Where is the other small mammal?" Vix looked around as though Lylla might be stashed somewhere, and Rocket flinched, looking away. Gamora took pity on him and answered the question so he wouldn't have to.

"After the battle, it seems she went on her own way. Not much for goodbyes, I suppose."

Groth looked with sympathy at Rocket, but Vix nodded as though unsurprised. "A free spirit, that one."

The tension in the room, caused by the softly scowling Peter, was beginning to put everyone on edge. "Let's… let's go see if we can program the sensors to track that trail," Rocket said, desperately in need of a change of subject. Groth nodded and turned to the piloting consoles, ready to get to work.

* * *

At last, the final tumbler clicked as it fell into place, and there was a metal-on-metal sound of the bolt retracting from within the wall. The other Otters, who had been listening to Lylla work for over an hour, gave a collective sigh of relief. "We can get out now," one said, but Lylla shook her head even though the gesture wouldn't be seen in the dark.

"No, you guys have to stay here. If a patrol comes by, maybe there are enough of you to fool them into thinking I'm still in there. I don't want them catching on until I can send for help."

One of the otters sniffed softly. "H-how do you know there will be help?"

"Because the Guardians of the Galaxy won't let me stay here, in danger. And they won't let you guys either; I'll be back for you. We're all going to get out of here; you just need to be patient and trust me."

Clearly, trust was in short supply for the Otter-folk, but there came reluctant noises of assent after a little while, a little while that involved very soft whispering among themselves. "Alright," said May. "As long as you come back for us. But after a day, we'll need to try and get out ourselves."

Now it was Lylla's turn to heave a sigh of relief; nobody would be making a break for it on their own, and they all knew that they wouldn't be trapped here for long. She hoped. "One day," Lylla agreed.

Carefully, Lylla opened the door just a crack and stuck her nose out, sniffing the air. Nothing alive, and the only real scent was that of oils used to keep robots running smoothly. Slowly, hoping the hinges wouldn't creak, she opened the door far enough to be able to poke her head out for a quick look around.

As she suspected, an empty hall. Not even a robot on standby. On silent paws, Lylla crept out of the room and slowly closed it behind her. She heard May whisper, "Don't forget to lock it," and with a bit of reluctance, she bent with her bobby pin and re-locked the door, which was thankfully faster and easier than unlocking it.

Standing at the end of a hallway, the Otter looked down the corridor, which was lined with doors just like the one she just came through. She wondered, in a worried way, how many other prisoners might be held within, but Lylla knew that there was no time to work on saving them. She'd have to save herself first, which meant contacting the Guardians, if she could just find a communication device. As quiet as an Otter could be, she started making her way down the hall to see what lay beyond.

* * *

"So that's it?" Rocket sounded a touch incredulous as he peered at Groth, then at the console.

Groth nodded her large head. "That should let us track the emissions. We'll have to go back to where the Sphere was last to be able to pick up the trail, but yes, that's it."

Gamora, seated at the console, glanced toward Groth, then Rocket, before looking over her shoulder. As expected, there sat Peter with what seemed to be a perpetual scowl now, and Gamora wished he was avoidable. Unfortunately, he wasn't. "Are we ready to go?"

Peter took a moment staring at Gamora.. or rather, through Gamora.. before answering. "Sure, why not. Let's go track a giant weapon-ball." He hardly sounded enthusiastic, and Gamora had to wonder how long he'd be in this mood. The intense jealousy and petulance was going to really get on her nerves if it kept up much longer. Even Groot was quiet in his pot, sensing the tension. That tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, but Gamora was starting to feel more inclined toward bludgeoning Peter until he got over it.

For the moment, though, Gamora just forced herself to accept that this tension and stress was going to linger for a while. Not a good thing when on a mission, but there was nothing --not even bludgeoning-- that would change it.

Rocket, seated at the other console, glanced at Gamora with a 'This is a problem' expression on his fuzzy muzzle, but said nothing. Instead, he turned his attention to his own console, making sure all the weapons were ready and waiting for his excited touch on the screen; Rocket did love shooting things. Even better if they blew up. "How long do you think it'll take?" Rocket muttered toward Gamora.

"A few hours, at most," was Gamora's reply as she glanced toward Groth for confirmation. When the large saurian woman nodded, she started punching in coordinates and selecting jump points. It wasn't a great distance away, but with the need to pursue the much larger vessel, time was of the essence. "What happens when we get there?"

Vix spoke up in his slightly growling voice, exposing predatory teeth with the curls of his muzzle. "In theory, we just follow the emission trail. If we lose track or it fades out, we search for the location of the closest nebula and go there, since that's the Sphere's fuel. We could catch them off guard," he added, tail twitching a little in anticipation, "Come up on them while they're still fueling. We can hide in the nebula easily enough, and perhaps take them by surprise."

"More likely we'll be following them to wherever they consider their base of operations, where they're likely to move said base of operations to the Sphere. That will take time, time we'll use to catch up," commented Groth. Vix seemed to dislike this option, preferring to take his prey down swiftly, when it wasn't aware it was being hunted. His tail stopped swaying, excitement draining away.

"Whatever the option, we'll need to be ready for a fight," said Peter curtly, finally ceasing his staring into blank space. He scrubbed one hand through short hair and looked toward the Jeleyahns. "Any thoughts on when we'll see something of your fleet? We can't do this alone," he muttered bitterly, as though he'd already been told there would be no help coming.

Taken aback by his tone, Groth peered at Peter with large dark eyes narrowed to slits, head moving back as though she could somehow dodge that bitterness. Vix's upper lip curled to display those many sharp teeth again, and the over-large claw on each foot tapped an irritated rhythm on the metal deck-plate. "They'll be meeting us at the original site," he hissed, giving a more hostile version of Groth's squinty-eyed stare at Peter. "Patience."

Peter snorted derisively at the concept of patience, of which he currently had none. "Let's get going."

Gamora shrugged a little, exchanged a concerned glance with Rocket, and finished programming their course. Without waiting for an actual command, she flicked her fingers across her console, and the ship started speeding toward the first jump-point. It was good that they'd had a chance to fuel up not long ago; this high-speed tracking was likely to strain their fuel resources. She thought about mentioning something to Peter, but at this point, there was nothing to be done about it. Either they'd make it or they wouldn't.

* * *

Lylla was thankful that her thieving career had taught her stealth. If she'd been just the daughter of a toy mogul, pampered and sweet, she'd never have been able to creep past unsuspecting robots. And there'd been a few, though they were mostly cleaning and errand-running bots, rather than anything with weaponry. At least, she didn't think they had weaponry. The only way to find out was a way she had no intention of trying.

Thus far, there'd been no signs of life, but that didn't really surprise Lylla. What need for living beings when you had an army of robots at your beck and call? But robots wouldn't go out of their way to capture Otters, so they must have been getting orders from someone.

Lylla pressed her back to a wall and peeked quickly around a corner, spotting her very first armed robot. To her dismay, it spotted her as well, and while it had weaponry, she did not.

She backed away while the robot sped around the corner after her, intending on a high-speed chase only to be surprised by a Lylla who'd only gone a few steps away. As the robot nearly rushed past her, she leapt on its back, clinging like a burr, and hopefully out of the line of fire for the overkill laser gun the robot was wielding. Once she was sure she'd be alright and the robot was spinning, trying to figure out how to dislodge her, Lylla started her very simple attack.

Nimble paws unscrewed metal plates, ripping them partially free, enough for her to get at the inside without dropping metal onto the metal floor. No need to alert anybody else that she was around.

Before she could rip out the inner workings of the robot, though, it decided to act without its gun. It reversed, speeding backward to ram into a wall, getting rid of any hope of stealth and squishing Lylla between it and the wall, making her squeak with sudden pain. 

It didn't feel like anything was broken, fortunately, so she pushed past the pain of ribs that were surely badly bruised, digging in the wires and circuitry inside the robot. She didn’t bother being precise, or relying on her own computer and robotics knowledge; Lylla just started ripping out components. The robot rolled forward, preparing to ram Lylla into the wall again, but whined to a halt as enough of its innards were pulled to turn the thing off.

Knowing that someone must have heard the ruckus, she hopped down off of the robot and started dragging it back into the hall. It made horrible screeching noises on the metal deck, but Lylla couldn't risk someone finding the scrap heap of a robot and realizing that there was someone hostile on the loose.

It felt like it weighed as much as Groth must, but slowly, Lylla got it down the hallway. She popped a narrow door hatch open and pushed the robot into quarters that used to hold living workers, where it would hopefully not be missed for a while.

Task completed, she stood by the still-open door for several minutes, eyes closed, barely breathing. Lylla listened hard, and finally she heard footsteps approaching, one set heavy and clearly mechanical, the other softer, sounding like actual feet rather than a second robot. Quickly, she ducked into the barracks with the torn-apart robot, closing the door so there was only a tiny crack for her to listen through.

"-certain it picked up some ruckus down this way," said a metallic voice that still managed to have inflections of personality. Bossy, and a bit arrogant.

"Perhaps you should have your little mechanical pets checked for defects, Toy King. It doesn't appear that anyone has been in this area of the building in months, if not longer." That voice was also bossy, and a lot arrogant. 

And familiar.

Lylla froze in place, dark eyes going wide enough to show white all around the irises, and a spike of icy fear went through her. She knew that voice. Lord Dyvyne. He'd lived! Against all odds, good sense, and favorable qualities of the universe, the bastard had lived. She knew she should have demanded a look at the body, but it was too late for that now. She had to deal with the fact that the person who'd tried to force marriage upon her so he could profit was still alive, right here. 

And perhaps that explained why Otters were being rounded up. What a horrible thought! Could Dyvyne be looking for her still? But that didn't make much sense; she was no longer the heiress to a toy-factory fortune, so Dyvyne wouldn't gain anything by getting her. Just an angry, stubborn Otter that might try to kill him in his sleep, and very few people wanted that.

These thoughts sped through her mind before this 'Toy King' had a chance to respond, but when it did, it sounded angry. "Do not test me with your insults; your blood can easily be spilt." The voice paused as though to emphasize the point, though the pair of mismatched footsteps continued, growing closer and closer. 

"Fine," Dyvyne snapped, apparently intimidated… or perhaps tired of the silence. "But I still see no sign of a commotion. Are you certain this was where the robot indicated trouble?"

Both sets of footsteps stopped. Lylla could tell that the pair were at the cross-road of hallways, close to where she'd fought against the robot, and she was relieved that she thought to hide the 'body'.

"Hm. This is the right area. Perhaps it was mistaken after all. Still, I will increase security and have some patrols go through here a little more often. But the only thing down this way is the cells, and there should be no problems with our… guests."

"I'll be wanting to review those guests soon," stated Dyvyne with very little concept of patience. 

"And you're sure you can identify the one who is working with these Guardians?"

"Yes, I'd recognize her anywhere," Dyvyne said distastefully. "Spoiled brat used to be involved with one of the Guardians, a Raccoon."

"A Raccoon who took my gem!" The Toy King sounded on the verge of losing patience with the whole thing, angry and a little petulant. Apparently Dyvyne heard that in the metallic voice as well.

"Relax. You'll get your gem back soon enough. Once I'm sure we have her, I'll transmit the ransom demand."

Whatever was said after that was lost to Lylla as the footsteps moved further down the corridor. She felt almost like she was floating with relief, but her paws shook a little in fear. Dyvyne! And some robot entity calling itself Toy King, whatever that was. As for the gem… Lylla wasn't certain what that was about, but it was clear they were going to try and ransom her in exchange for it.

And with what Lylla knew about Dyvyne, the reptile would be happy to open fire right after he had this gem in his claws. She had to warn the Guardians!

* * *

"We're getting close," said Groth, giving Peter a wary glance. This 'Star-Lord' seemed angry and tense, still, and the saurians had no idea what the cause was. Whatever it was, it seemed to involve Gamora and Rocket, which puzzled Groth; these people should have camaraderie together, be a team, and it was clear something had happened to put cracks in what used to be unity. It made both saurians nervous.

A soft beeping sound started to come from Rocket's console, and the Raccoon started cursing creatively. Groot twitched and eyed Rocket with a little frown. "I am Groot."

"I will not watch my language! This is really bad!" He turned in his chair so he could see everybody: Peter in the captain's chair (who got a glare from Rocket), Drax standing very still in the arched and open doorway that led to what passed for the kitchen (whose table was covered in star charts), Gamora sitting at her console with Groth peering over her shoulder, Vix pacing back and forth with clicking claws, and Groot in his pot, which was perched upon a small table that had been added to the bridge specifically for him. "Guys. We're running out of fuel," Rocket said in the grim tones that the warning deserved. "We'll have to stop somewhere soon."

Gamora uncharacteristically cursed under her breath, drawing a startled look from Rocket --and no admonition from Groot-- and stood to look over Rocket's shoulder while Groth took over her console and started scanning the information. "We will have to stop somewhere," said Gamora with a touch of irritation in her voice. "Groth, see if there's a refueling station on the way?"

Groth nodded and got to work on that task while Rocket grumbled. Peter took his turn to curse, eyeing Groth. "Better find one on the way, or else we'll be even more behind the Sphere than we already are."

Groth didn't dignify the obvious comment with a response. 

"Even if we fall behind, we will still catch them!" Drax finally added to the conversation, moving away from the wall he'd been leaning against with folded brawny arms. "They cannot elude us for long." Drax didn't bother elaborating on just how that was going to happen, but he did sound confident.

Everyone on the bridge eyed Drax for a moment; the huge tattooed fellow seemed oblivious to their attention, looking toward the view-screen as though he could see the Sphere through it, right there.

Shaking his head, Vix paced with clicking claws over to Groth. "Have you found any options?"

"Yes, actually." Now Groth had the full attention of the bridge, though she was concentrating on the screen of her console. "It looks like there's a refueling station by one of the busier jump-points… and that jump-point leads to the nearest nebula. It's perfect."

Everyone expressed their responses in different ways, with relieved sighs from Rocket and Gamora, a nod from Drax as though he expected nothing less, pleased expressions from both saurians… and a still-grumpy look from Peter. Groot appeared to be asleep.

Groth started punching in the coordinates while Vix resumed pacing, tail swaying slightly back and forth.

* * *

The place wasn't pretty to look at. It looked as though someone had combined all the sketchy truck stops from Earth and stuck the result in space. Bright lights of varying colors invited ships in need of fuel to land on the massive refueling platform, the back end of which held a building with advertisements in the window extolling the virtues of the food to be served within.

Peter questioned said virtues. "Alright, let's get this done quickly. These places always seem to attract trouble."

"I am Groot?" The question was followed by a yawn.

Rocket snickered. "I don't think we're the trouble this time," he answered Groot. Gamora chuckled, realizing what Groot had asked, and shook her head. Rocket started guiding the ship downward to land, going through a massive airlock in the clear dome that kept atmosphere inside the refueling station somehow. Once parked by one of the wide posts that marked a pump, he powered the ship down and popped hatches so everyone could get out.

"I'll stay and handle the refueling," Peter said, going up to the touch screen on the post and starting to program in what was wanted. "The rest of you can go get food; grab me something to go, will ya?" That last was directed at Drax, who nodded as though accepting a ponderous task.

Rocket gathered up Groot's pot, though the little plant seemed on the verge of falling asleep, and headed with the others to the squat square building.

* * *

The restaurant was busy. People of varying races milled about in the cafeteria-style line or sat in hard plastic chairs around tables that had permanent stains on their surfaces, chatting or watching each other warily; many were armed. Clothing and gear varied wildly, so the yellow walls and white tables were outshone by a small rainbow of fabrics in exotic colors and styles. A few children ran about, occasionally letting out a yell or diving under tables, releasing energy pent up from too much time in small ships. Women --and a man or two-- that were clearly hookers meandered about as though this fueling station was their territory, subtly propositioning visitors and offering to ply their wares -- themselves.

And strangest of all, behind the counter stood two people. One was perfectly average, a humanoid with bushy hair and beard (and a rather large gun on his back) while the other required looking up. And up. Everyone stopped when they saw the near-spitting image of what their little Groot had looked like before he risked his life to save the rest of them. The Groot slowly looked over and a smile creaked across his wooden visage when he saw the potted sprout. 

Groot woke the rest of the way up, sleepiness gone! He started struggling in Rocket's paws, smacking at them, wanting to be put down, so Rocket obliged, setting him on their chosen table. Once he was set down, he started bouncing energetically enough that the red pot shook and slid a little on the table; he put his hands on the edges of the pot and started pushing up.

The Guardians watched in pleased surprise as Groot popped himself out of the pot, revealing little mostly-formed feet that had small root tendrils extending off of them. Eagerly, he ran to the edge of the table and jumped down, scampering to the old Groot behind the counter, who bent ponderously and reached down a hand for Groot to jump on. He straightened, holding the freshly de-potted Groot at face level, and a soft duet of varying inflections of 'I am Groot' began. 

"Well, looks like we've made a friend already," commented Gamora with a warm smile, watching the pair exchange in their strange language, and Rocket nodded, watching with fondness as his friend with his new legs excitedly gestured to the huge Groot that held him. 

"Glad to see he's finally out of his pot," replied the Raccoon. "I was wondering when it was going to happen," he continued, walking with his lover over to the chow line. "I knew something was up with him, but he wouldn't tell me." He barked a short laugh, grinning enough to show those pointed teeth. "Guess he either wanted it to be a surprise, or he really liked being carried around in his pot."

They were in the midst of getting their meals when the door burst in and chaos erupted.

* * *

Lylla was taking her sweet time finding a room with communication equipment. That time was sweet because it was spent making her way carefully through the vaguely familiar territory with special effort not to run into anything bigger than a cleaning droid. She'd been successful in trailing after the pair of villains she'd overheard, though always staying one corridor behind so she wouldn't get spotted. She knew she was in the right place when she was led somewhere much cleaner, with much better lighting and the busy whirring of robots going about their business. She was in a populated area; she'd have to be even more careful now.

She moved on the balls of her feet, toes slightly elevated so she wouldn't give herself away with the clicking of little claws. It took some time, and some breathlessly close encounters, but finally she peeked in a door and saw the equipment she needed. Unfortunately, the robot guarding it saw her.

Not giving the thing time to relay its alarm, she dove into the room and pushed the door closed behind her with one foot, then leapt at the droid much as she had the last one, though this time its insides were already partially visible thanks to poor design. She reached to grab at parts to yank when a hand shot out from the robot and clutched at her throat, lifting her off of the floor so her little feet kicked, trying to find purchase and finding only empty air instead.

Panic began to set in along with a slow dimming of her vision as breath became a commodity she had very little of. But she couldn't let herself black out; if she did, she was dead. So she strained to reach and grabbed some of the exposed wires at the thing's forearm, yanking willy-nilly until the droid made a whining noise, fingers loosening so she plopped unceremoniously to the floor.

She saw the other arm of the humanoid-shaped robot darting out to resume choking her and ducked nimbly out of the way, scrambling up it while still fighting for breath that has finally returned. Lylla grabbed at wires and tubes at its throat, wrapping them around her paw and pulling hard. She had to plant her feet on its chest, and it grabbed her by the throat again, cutting off air she'd so recently regained. But with the added leverage, she managed to pull the tubes and wires free, making the thing release a droning whir that faded away to nothing in moments, powering off.

Fortunately, it stayed upright; something that heavy dropping to the marble floor would surely have alerted others nearby, perhaps even Dyvyne himself. She slowly climbed down and sat in the comm chair, letting herself catch her breath and waiting for the dizziness to fade away.

Once she was feeling less strangled, she got out of the chair and prudently locked the door just in case someone decided to visit. It wouldn't keep someone out for long, but it would buy her time to hide. On the off chance that someone would simply glance in after unlocking the door, she moved the defunct robot so its back was facing the door and blocking line of sight to the comm chair. Satisfied that she was safe as she could manage --and that, not much,-- she climbed back into a chair meant for someone a few feet taller and began punching in codes.

* * *

Peter was grumpy, and not just because of the incident with Rocket and Gamora, though that was a strong contributing factor. No, for the moment he was grumpy about the price of fuel, and being out here in the open for however long it was going to take. He was thinking about what he'd seen in that bedroom when he heard a beeping coming from the console. It could be anyone, but in all likelihood it was something important, so he stopped the fueling process and walked up the ramp into his ship.

He eyed the flashing light on the comm console, then pushed the pad of numbers below it, activating communications. "Starlord. Kinda busy, can this wait for anoth-"

Cut off by a breathless whisper, Peter went still with something like shock.

"I'm captured on Halfworld by Dyvyne and someone calling himself the Toy King," Lylla hissed at the lowest voice range she had. "They want to use me as bait, to exchange for some gem Rocket took, but when you get here they'll likely just kill you. Stay away!"

"What? We can't stay away, Lylla, you need help!" Peter was growing ever more worried at the Otter's tone of voice. "We can come get you as soon as we have the Sphere; it shouldn't be long now. Can you hold tight?"

"Yes, but not for long," Lylla whispered into the comm's microphone. "There are a bunch of other Otters here in need of rescue too, if you insist on coming." And Lylla knew they would assist; it was just the sort of thing they did when a friend was in trouble. She could wait, knowing that rescue was on the way.

Peter was about to respond when, out of the forward windows he saw a weirdly familiar-looking ship land. He was able to place the design when Saurians filed out of it, and breathed a sigh of relief; apparently Vix and Groth had managed to rustle up at least a few fighters to help take on the Sphere-stealers. "We'll be there as soon as we can. Can you give me coordinates? A layout of the place?"

Watching the heavily-armed Saurians stomp their way toward the door, Peter smiled a little, some of his earlier grumpiness fading. He had two missions to occupy his thoughts right now, and it helped him forget about the incident with Rocket and Gamora. "Yes, sending the stuff now," said the soft voice of the Otter.

Peter glanced toward the window again to watch the Saurians when abruptly, one of them kicked the door open and the lot of them stepped inside. Hardly the behavior of friends, and a spike of alarm shot through the human. "Lylla, gotta go. Send the stuff; we'll come get you."

Without waiting for a response, Peter activated his armored suit so the helm and face-mask appeared, then dove out of the hatch, charging for the now permanently-opened door, energy-pistol in hand. The sight before him was one of chaos, with tables upturned and customers hiding behind them, while Rocket and Gamora were locked in combat with the invading Saurians. Vix was there too, jumping to lash out with those huge sythe-like toe claws in between shots with his own energy-pistol.

Groth was hiding behind the counter, but only for cover; she had an energy-rifle out and firing, while the grizzled old owner of the place had an actual -shotgun- that boomed whenever he was content with his aim. The huge Groot had set the tinier Groot on top of the refrigerator and was wading toward the combat himself; it almost looked like Peter wasn't even needed. Not that this would stop him from jumping in on the fight anyway.

He charged in, gun blazing as he took aim at a pair that were squared up against Gamora, though the green woman hardly needed the help. Between mechanical and chemical augmentations and years of working as a skilled assassin made her quick and very dangerous, especially with that sword of hers flicking through the space between her and her antagonists.

Rocket most assuredly wanted to jump in and help, but he had an opponent of his own that he was shooting at with what looked like gleeful abandon. The large Groot was holding off the other two, wrapping them in spiked vines and shaking them vigorously while his little baby-Groot counter part looked on. 

Then said little baby-Groot looked toward the entrance. "…I am Groot!" Even those without the benefit of knowing the complex three-word language knew by tone of voice what was said. It sounded just like 'Oh fuck," and Peter turned to look toward the door. Two more ships had landed, Saurian ships, and Starlord realized they were about to be very outnumbered.


End file.
